


Be Excited

by magicbubblepipe



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drug Use, Fluff and Humor, M/M, pinescone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicbubblepipe/pseuds/magicbubblepipe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper surprises his boyfriend with some pot he snuck from Grunkle Stan's stash. They go on an "adventure".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Excited

**Author's Note:**

> Both Wirt and the twins are fifteen.

            The burnished light of sunset pours through the triangular window of Dipper’s attic bedroom. Wirt is seated in one of his favorite positions, on the floor with his back resting against Dipper’s bed. He has a pillow on his lap and a journal on the pillow. The words that spill from the end of his ballpoint halt when the door creaks open to admit his boyfriend into the room.

            He can tell by the mischievous glint in Dipper’s eyes that he’s up to something. Wirt closes his journal and lifts his eyebrows. Dipper brandishes a plastic baggie from behind his back and grins wide.

            “Where…what?” Wirt eloquently asks, eyes trained on the contents of the bag: three generously rolled joints.

            Dipper crosses the room, still grinning at his achievement and drops down to sit cross legged next to the other boy. From under the edge of his bed he pulls out a shoebox. “Remember when we were playing that ‘never have I ever’ game with Mabel last week?”

            “Uh-huh.” Wirt watches as Dipper removes the box’s lid, revealing a small ashtray and a few lighters.

            “Well that thing you said about never smoking weed kind of got my gears turning.”

            “I can see that.”

            Dipper bumps his shoulder against Wirt’s. “I thought: man, he’s cute all the time. Imagine how cute he’d be all flushed and giggly.”

            Wirt can’t help but crack a grin as he gently bumps him back. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

            “Hmm?” Dipper opens the bag and plucks out a joint, bringing it up to his nose for a sniff.

            “Where’d you get that stuff?”

            Dipper chuckles, “Stole it from Grunkle Stan’s personal stash, of course.”

            Wirt laughs outright but slowly grows thoughtful as he stares at the innocuous roll of paper. “You don’t think he’ll be mad, do you?”

            Dipper shrugs. “Probably but he totally owes me for that embarrassing stunt he pulled with the baby pictures.”

            Stifling his smile at the remembrance of Dipper’s naked baby butt is harder than Wirt thought it would be.

            “Shut up, dude,” Dipper gripes and Wirt can see the flush creeping across his cheeks. He acts on the impulse to lean over and kiss his adorable face.

            Dipper turns to look at Wirt and all of the stupid sweet feelings in his chest clench and flutter. He’s so gone for this guy it’s ridiculous. His fingers fumble the joint and picks it up off the floor along with a lighter from the box. He shakes it near his ear to hear the slosh of fluid, nodding to himself.

            “You ready?” he asks.

            Wirt bites his lip, fingers fiddling with the fabric of his pillow.

            “We don’t have to if you’re not,” Dipper reassures him, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair out of Wirt’s face.

            Wirt looks from the pot back to Dipper and smiles, albeit timidly. He trusts him. “No, it’s okay. I’m ready.”

            Dipper grins and kisses his cheek before bringing up the joint between thumb and forefinger. He pauses before lighting it, considering. “You know,” he says, turning so he’s facing Wirt, “There’s a good way to ease you into this, since it’s your first time. I’ve never tried it before but I’ve seen Wendy do it.”

            Wirt watches him with wide eyes, licks his lips and nods. “Okay.”

            Dipper brings the joint to his lips and flicks the lighter. It catches quickly and smolders, flashing cherry bright. Wirt watches as Dipper’s eyes fall half-lidded as he draws the smoke into his lungs. Then he pulls the joint out of the way and cups Wirt’s cheek with his free hand. Unsure of where this is going, Wirt follows along, allowing Dipper to lean in and coax his mouth open. He catches on just in time to feel smoke flooding his mouth. He breathes in as Dipper breathes out but has to pull away almost immediately to cough.

            “That’s so hot,” Wirt wheezes, hand clutching his chest.

            “Thanks,” Dipper jokes.

            “The smoke, moron.”

            Dipper laughs and stands up, “I’ll grab you some water.”

            He hurries back as quickly as he can to find Wirt examining the joint where it’s resting on the ashtray. Dipper hands him the glass of water, which he gratefully drinks.

            “Ready to try that again?” Dipper asks, sitting back down and taking up the weed again.

            Wirt nods, pushing the pillow out of his lap and leaning forward. “Ready.”

            Dipper brings the still burning joint to his lips and takes a deep drag. He holds it in for a moment and then leans forward, meeting Wirt halfway. This time Wirt is ready, lips parted to accept the smoke. Breathe out, breathe in. Dipper lets his lips linger a moment longer than last time, pulling away with a teasing kiss. Wirt’s eyes slide back open and he regards Dipper with something akin to wonder.

            Dipper smiles helplessly at the little choked off coughs Wirt’s making around sips of his water. “Starting to feel it?”

            “I…uh. I think so?” Wirt says, “My head feels kind of floaty. And like…tight?”

            Dipper chuckles. “You’re getting there.”  

            Dipper takes another quick puff before offering it to Wirt. The other boy stares at it uncertainly, reaching out like he’s about to touch a livewire.

            “Just hold it lightly. Careful not to get the end too damp,” Dipper instructs, positioning Wirt’s fingers correctly. “Don’t burn yourself.”

            Wirt looks at him like he’s just been given an impossible task but he tries nonetheless. He pulls in smoke at an alarmingly fast rate and then holds it, eyes wide like he doesn’t know what to do.

            “Let it out, man! Damn.”

            Wirt releases the smoke on a hacking cough, blindly passing the joint back off to Dipper as he clambers for his water. Dipper laughs good-naturedly as Wirt swipes at his watering eyes.

            “That was one heck of a hit,” Dipper says, patting him on the back to help clear his lungs, “I’m kind of proud.”

            “Jerk,” Wirt gasps, still struggling to take in air.

            “The burning sensation will go away eventually,” Dipper says, taking the last toke before it’s done. He lets out the smoke in two perfect rings, captivating Wirt’s attention. “The first time I smoked, I coughed so hard I almost puked.”

            Dipper’s starting to feel his head lighten, tingles creeping over his scalp. Wirt’s face is a pretty shade of pink and he’s staring down at his own legs in mild confusion.

            “My legs feel weird,” he says, wiggling his feet experimentally.

            “Oh boy,” Dipper smiles, “Be excited.”

           

…

 

            A half hour later and Dipper is half way through a second joint when he decides to quit. He’s at a lovely state of perfect highness and from the looks of it, Wirt is feeling it too. Not that he’s said anything. At all. For quite a while now. Dipper’s not sure how long really but it feels like too long.

            Dipper reaches up to adjust his hat and then remembers that he put it on Wirt. He had seen him sitting there looking cute and thought, ‘Hey, I bet he’d look cuter in my hat’. And he was right. Wirt has been staring straight ahead with a vacant expression, idly stroking the brim of the hat for what seems like an eternity.

            “You feel okay?” Dipper asks.

            Wirt slowly turns to look at him, grey eyes wide and rimmed in red. He blinks as if in slow motion and says with a voice that is far too quiet, “I am very hungry.”

            Dipper snickers and then chuckles, then laughs until his face is red. His eyes are tearing up and Wirt is watching in utter incomprehension. He starts smiling hesitantly like he figures he should be and that just cracks up Dipper even worse.

            “Oh man,” Dipper sighs, swiping at his face. He rises to his feet, swaying a little. “C’mon. Let’s go get some food.”

            He reaches a hand down toward Wirt, who blinks at it for a moment before taking it. Hefting himself up with staggering steps, he follows after Dipper, their fingers linked together. They make the treacherous walk down the stairs and Wirt attempts to head toward the kitchen but Dipper pulls him toward the front door.

            “Huh?”

            “We don’t have anything good here. I wanna go to the diner,” Dipper says, tugging Wirt along.

            Wirt gapes, “In…In public? Really?”

            “It’s no big deal. Mabel and I do it all the time.”

            “I don’t know, Dipper. What if someone finds out?”

            “No one’s gonna care. Actually, I’m pretty sure Lazy Susan deals on the side.”

            Wirt looks so shocked that Dipper starts laughing again. As they amble through the living room, Grunkle Stan steps into their path.

            “Y’know,” He says, Pitt Cola in hand, “I hear the weed police are going door to door tonight.”

            Stan levels Wirt with a stare and Wirt looks honestly horrified. “Is that a…? No, that’s not a thing. Is it? It’s not.”

            “Sure it is. Every town has one. We call it “pot patrol” on the streets,” Stan replies, “Yep, they put me away for that back in ’82.”

            “Knock it off, old man,” Dipper says, “You’re not fooling anyone.”

            The expression on Wirt’s face begs to differ.

            Stan finally bursts out laughing and reaches out to ruffle Wirt’s hair. Wirt flinches belatedly and Stan edges past him and back to his easy chair. Dipper takes Wirt’s hand again and leads him out the front door.

            They’re seated inside Dipper’s juiced up golf cart before Wirt realizes what’s about to happen. “What are you doing?”

            “Um, driving,” Dipper replies casually, cranking the ignition.

            “ _Under the influence_?” Wirt practically hisses, scandalized.

            “I function perfectly well, thank you very much,” Dipper punctuates this sentence by slamming on the gas and swerving out onto the path, the cart dangerously close to riding on two wheels.

            Wirt clings with one hand onto his boyfriend’s vest and the other onto his seat as the cart chugs off down the road towards town. Dipper notices Wirt’s distress and casts him a concerned glance.

            “Okay?”

            “If I close my eyes I feel like I’m in space.”

            “Right on,” Dipper says cheerfully and throws his arm around Wirt’s shoulders. Wirt relaxes subtly against him, though he feels like his body wants to lift up out of the seat.

            After a small eternity, the cart squeals to a halt in front of Greasy’s Diner. It takes some coaxing to get Wirt to follow him, the boy convinced that the road’s still moving beneath the parked cart. Dipper leads the way into the restaurant, Wirt blinking in the sudden artificial light. Dipper manages to wave hello in a convincingly sober manner as he guides Wirt to a booth by a window.

            Wirt sits stiff in his seat, casting nervous glances around. He visibly jumps when Susan approaches the table with two menus.

            “Hey kids,” she says brightly, pulling out her notepad, “What can I get you to drink?”

            “Can I get some orange juice?” says Dipper, then turns to gaze across the table at Wirt who is staring wide-eyed at his menu like it’s written in hieroglyphics. Lazy Susan watches him with growing confusion until Dipper nudges Wirt’s ankle under the table.

            “Apple Juice,” he almost shouts.

            Dipper hides his smirk behind his hand and Susan winks at him knowingly with her good eye before bustling off back to the kitchen. Wirt is clutching Dipper’s hat tightly to his head as if it’s trying to escape. Dipper reaches across the table and holds his hand out, palm up. It takes a moment but Wirt finally understands and cautiously removes one hand from the hat and places it in Dipper’s.

            Susan returns shortly with their drinks and asks if they’re ready to order.

            “I’ll have the shortstack and eggs, sunny side up,” says Dipper, handing over his menu.

            Susan scribbles on her notepad and turns to Wirt.

            Wirt looks from her and back to the menu. He lifts his other hand off the hat and uses it to jab a finger at the menu. “I want pancakes,” he says, pointing at the waffles.

            Susan pauses, tapping her pen against the page, looking between the two boys. “Ohhh…kay.”

            “Those are waffles,” Dipper tells Wirt.

            Wirt’s brow furrows, pointing more forcefully at the picture of waffles. “Pan. Cakes. Please.”

            Dipper shrugs and says, “Okay, bring him pancakes.”

            “You got it,” Susan says, making note of it and shuffling off.

            Dipper squeezes Wirt’s hand reassuringly.

            “She knows,” Wirt stage whispers.

            Dipper bites his lip so as not to laugh, “Nah, man. You’re cool as a cucumber.”

            Wirt smiles back slowly, seeming to unclench. “For real?”

            “Totally.”

            “Where’s the food?” Wirt asks after a moment has passed, “We’ve been here for like an hour.”

            Dipper can’t help but cackle. His laughter is suddenly interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone. He fishes it out of his vest pocket and sees Mabel’s goofy contact picture on the screen.

            “Hey,” he says, “What’s up?”

            “Uh, hey, so…,” he hears Mabel hesitate over the line, “I kind of need you to do me a solid.”

            Dipper straightens at the tension in his sister’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

            In the background, he can hear Greg’s laughter and catchy pop music. They had been in Mabel’s room making up dances to top 40 hits for most of the afternoon. “I’m out of… _girl things_.”

            Dipper squints, his drug-addled mind struggling to catch up. “What like…stickers…?”

            Mabel groans. “Pads, Dipper. I need more pads.”

            “OH.”

            “Yeah. Sorry to interrupt your…whatever it is you’re doing but this is kind of important and you guys took the Mystery Cart so...”

            “Oh, no. Yeah, absolutely. Me and Wirt will pick some up on the way back home. Promise.”

            “Thanks, bro-bro. See you later.”

            “Bye.”

            Dipper slides the phone back into his pocket to find Wirt staring at him questioningly. “We gotta make a stop on the way back to the shack.”

            “What for?”

            “Mabel needs some supplies.”

            Wirt forgets to ask what exactly Dipper means by ‘supplies’ when Lazy Susan returns with their food. She sets down Wirt’s stack of pancakes first and then unloads Dipper’s plates. Wirt, meanwhile, is staring at the pancakes like they have just offended his mother. Dipper looks at him, lifting an eyebrow.

            “Wirt?”

            Suddenly, Wirt is overcome with a crushing sense of disappointment. He feels his bottom lip tremble but is powerless to stop the tears rushing to his eyes. “These…are not waffles,” he says in a quivering voice.

            “But you asked for-…”

            Dipper cuts off Susan’s protest with a slashing motion across his throat. “You’re absolutely right, Wirt. Those are not waffles.” He speaks slowly and calmly as he passes the offending pancakes back over to her.

            Susan takes the plate, letting out a little harrumph and something about “crazy teenagers”. Dipper mouths an apology at her before she leaves. Wirt is staring forlornly at the empty table in front of him, swiping at his tears with the sleeve of his sweater.

            “You hit it way too hard,” Dipper says, shaking his head.

            “Where’d my food go?” Wirt asks, blinking at him owlishly.

            “You just sent it back, remember?”

            Without warning, Wirt breaks into tears again, covering his face with his napkin. “That was mean of me,” he laments.

            “Nah, it’s fine,” Dipper soothes, reaching across the table to squeeze his shoulder. The absurdity of the situation is threatening to make him laugh again but he just manages to hold it back for Wirt’s sake.

            Susan returns promptly, this time with waffles. Wirt’s woes are soothed almost immediately and he takes to upending the syrup bottle over his plate. Dipper chuckles under his breath and takes the syrup from him when it’s offered. They eat, uninterrupted except for the obscene noises of pleasure that have a few other customers glancing their way in affront. Luckily the both of them are a little too blitzed to care.

…

            Wirt doesn’t fully realize the gravity of the situation until he’s following Dipper into the glaring, gaudy light of the market. He halts just after they’ve crossed through the automatic doors, flailing an arm out to grab Dipper’s wrist.

            “Wait, wait, wait,” Wirt gasps, looking around like he’s somehow wandered into one of the circles of hell.

            “What?”

            Wirt clutches his chest with his free hand and turns frightened eyes on Dipper. “What are we doing here?”

            “Gotta get Mabel’s stuff, remember?” Dipper says, reaching up to remove the hat from Wirt’s head and put it on his own. He smiles at the charming disarray of his boyfriend’s hair.

            Wirt’s gaze starts to lose focus as he continues to stare at Dipper. “Hmm?”

            “Never mind,” Dipper pulls him along, leading the way toward the pharmacy section.

            Once there, it dawns on him that he actually has no idea where tampons and pads are kept. Wirt follows him along, getting sidetracked every now and then by some brightly colored product. He carries around an orange hairbrush for a good ten minutes before he thinks better of it and puts it back. Dipper eventually stops at a wall full of pink and purple boxes.

            Wirt draws up beside him and drops the bath bomb he had been holding. “That’s a lot,” he says.

            Dipper narrows his eyes at the wide array of feminine products, scanning the brand names for something that looks familiar. “Depends? …No, that’s for like…incontinence, right?”

            Wirt shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. “Mm-mm-mm?”

            Dipper picks up a box, inspects it and puts it back. He does the same for at least a dozen more before he settles on one that looks like something Mabel would buy. He decides this based on the fact that the box is hot pink and covered in flowers.     

            “Oh lord, they come in different sizes?” Wirt asks, “But why? I mean…I guess it makes sense?”

            This has not occurred to Dipper. He quickly pulls out his phone and composes one of his weirder Google searches to date. He scrolls through the results, his expression becoming gradually more horrified.

            “What does it say?”

            Dipper grimaces, “Heavy flow,” he rubs at his closed eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, “Wide…set…vagina….” He cringes.

            Wirt pales. “This is more complicated than I thought.”

            “Yeah,” Dipper sighs, looking down at the box in his hand, “I’m just gonna go with my gut on this one.”

            Wirt nods, trying to look more sure than he feels. “I’m really glad I’m not a girl.”

            “You and me both, man.”

            They wander around, following the sound of beeping until they locate the registers. There’s only three lanes open and Dipper happens to pick the one being cashiered by none other than Robbie Valentino. By the time he realizes this grievous error, it’s too late to back out. He straightens up, puffs out his chest and walks straight up there, plopping the girly box on the conveyor belt.

            Robbie looks up from where he was perusing his phone and snorts, flipping his lank hair out of his eyes. “If it isn’t the mystery dweeb,” he remarks and then pauses when he sees Wirt. “And…this guy.”

            Wirt waves lamely.

            Then Robbie’s eyes fall to the box and he barks out a laugh. “On your period, are we?”

            Wirt bristles at this. “Look, guy,” he starts, “We don’t want any trouble.”

            Robbie raises his eyebrows in amusement. Dipper slaps a palm against his face but can’t help but smile at Wirt. “We’re kind of in a hurry,” he says, pulling the wallet out of his back pocket.

            Robbie rings them up with no further quips and the two boys leave the store victorious. Once back in the Mystery Cart, Dipper pulls out the orange hairbrush Wirt had been considering from the inside of his vest. Wirt gapes at him, shocked and weirdly moved by the display.

            “You stole that?” he asks, though he’s already reaching out to take it.

            “And these,” says Dipper and pulls out a bag of sour gummy worms.

            Wirt starts laughing helplessly and leans over to kiss Dipper through his smile. “Thank you,” he says and settles down against his side. Dipper throws the cart into drive and whips out of the parking lot, taking a shortcut through the woods toward the Shack.

…

            Mabel meets them at the door, already reaching for the plastic bag in Dipper’s hand. “Jeeze Louise, it took you long enough,” she gripes and then pauses, leaning in to sniff Dipper’s shirt. She narrows her eyes. “Are you…?”

            Dipper’s snickering affirms her suspicion.

            “That explains a lot,” she says, shaking her head. She hurries off to the bathroom and Wirt and Dipper head for the stairs. Until they hear a loud groan of annoyance, followed by Mabel’s thumping footsteps running back toward them.

            “These are tampons, Dipper!” She says, face flushed, obviously uncomfortable discussing this with her brother and his boyfriend, “I asked for pads. I don’t…I’ve never used these!”

            Dipper hears Wirt slap his palms to his face but keeps his stare fixed on the box in Mabel’s hand. “Are you sure?”

            She deadpans. “Of course I’m sure.”

            Stan appears behind her, leaning on the doorframe. “Alright, stop yelling. I’ll go get…uh. What you need.”

            Mabel whirls around, catching him around the middle in a tight hug, “Thank you, Grunkle Stan. Sorry my nerd brother is useless.”

            Dipper sticks his tongue out at her and she returns the gesture. Stan pats Mabel’s head, gently extracting himself from the embrace.

            “Let me just put some pants on.”

            Dipper takes that as his cue to leave, nodding at Wirt to continue on up the stairs to the attic. With Wirt ascending first, it gives Dipper an excellent view and he doesn’t resist the urge to reach out and give Wirt’s butt a little squeeze. The other boy yelps, tripping over his own feet as he reaches the landing. He’s too cute.

            Before Wirt can open the bedroom door, Dipper grabs him by the waist and flips him around so his back is against it. The taller boy lets out a surprised huff of breath, suddenly face to face with Dipper’s warm, dark eyes. His lips slowly quirk upwards, a faint blush spreading across his cheekbones, touching the tips of his ears. Dipper rises up on his toes and covers that little smile with his own lips, making Wirt gasp and reach out for him.

            His hands find their way under Dipper’s vest, clinging to him through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Dipper lets out a little sigh and opens his mouth, sneaking his tongue against the seam of Wirt’s lips. Heart pounding, he opens up to him, his senses sharpened, nerves flaring. He couldn’t have imagined that smoking would make kissing Dipper even better than before but he was wrong. Emotions and sensation, crushing over him like a tidal wave and he wants to tell him, wants to wax poetic about the sweet candy taste of his mouth, soft slide of his tongue but that would mean giving up the kiss and he won’t dare.

            Dipper fumbles behind him, turning the doorknob and walking Wirt backwards into the attic. Wirt follows the hands on his chest blindly, being pushed until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he drops with a startled sound. Dipper is soon to follow, straddling his boyfriend’s hips and bearing back down into the kiss. Every point their bodies are touching is sparking electric and Wirt whimpers, rocking up into him helplessly.

            His frantic movements draw a low groan out of Dipper and he meets every roll of Wirt’s hips with his own, separating from the kiss long enough to gaze down at him, drag his thumbs over Wirt’s swollen lips. “So pretty, Wirt,” he says, barely above a whisper.

            Wirt turns his head, flushing deeper as he buries his face in Dipper’s neck. “Can’t say things like that…” he whines, “makes me crazy.”

            “Good,” Dipper replies, licking a stripe under Wirt’s pink-tipped ear.

            Wirt makes a muffled sound and jerks against him, digging hard against Dipper’s ass. Dipper smirks and leans up on his elbows enough to give himself more leverage before he starts in with these devilish little hip swivels that make Wirt cry out and clutch at his thighs.

            “C-can’t,” Wirt stammers, eyes screwed shut, “Dipper, please…”

            Dipper leans down, pushes up under Wirt’s jaw until he can get his teeth on his throat, open his mouth in a sucking kiss and that’s when Wirt loses it. He trembles, arching beneath Dipper, hands scrabbling up his thighs, clutching at his back as he comes in his jeans. Dipper pulls back to look at him, his gloriously disheveled hair, open panting mouth, the little tear that escaped his eye that Dipper kisses away.

            “Whoa.” They both say it at the same time and Dipper laughs breathlessly, rolling off of Wirt to lie beside him.

            Wirt turns to him immediately, covering Dipper’s mouth in a messy kiss. His hand moves between them, sliding down the heaving planes of Dipper’s chest until he reaches the top of his jeans. He kisses his way over to Dipper’s ear as he squeezes the length of his boyfriend’s erection, trapped against his hip. Dipper gasps, fingers finding Wirt’s hair and gripping tight.

            “Can I?” Wirt asks, thumb rubbing back and forth over the head.

            “Ye-Yes,” Dipper says, voice shaking as he pushes his hips into Wirt’s touch, “Please, actually.”

            Wirt nips at the lobe of Dipper’s ear, flicking it gently with his tongue while he tugs down the zipper of his jeans. Dipper gasps at the first touch of his hand and Wirt’s breath shudders against his neck. He’s still not entirely used to the feeling of the other boy’s warm, delicate skin against his palm. The poetry is full to bursting out of him and he finds himself mumbling against Dipper’s throat while his hand starts to stroke.

“Sun-shower skin and love-dark eyes,

“Lightening mind, clever, and wise

My darling dear, my beautiful one

You shake me up and leave me undone.”

            Dipper’s cock jerks in his grasp, smearing wetly over Wirt’s palm. Wirt watches him as he screws his pretty eyes shut, white teeth biting his kiss-red lower lip. Wirt presses an open kiss to the base of Dipper’s throat, his hand working rapidly between them. Dipper throws one arm around Wirt and hauls him in close against his chest, trembling as he starts to come.

            He throws his head back against the pillow, groaning out Wirt’s name with the first pulse of release. Wirt answers with a moan of his own as he feels Dipper falling apart in his hands. He kisses Dipper’s cheeks and eyelids as the other boy catches his breath. His fingers pet at Wirt’s hair, clumsily mussing the strands as he tries to make his mouth cooperate long enough to kiss him back.

            “Mm,” Wirt says with a sigh, shuffling down to pillow his head on Dipper’s chest, “What now?”

            Dipper chuckles, “Maybe change out of your sticky jeans?”

            “Later,” he burrows in deeper, “Or never.”

            “You’re gonna be sorry later when you’re picking it out of your-…”

            Dipper is interrupted by two knocks at the door, followed by Stan’s head poking inside.

            “Grunkle Stan!” Dipper sits up, dislodging Wirt, and grabs a pillow to hold defensively, like he might hurl it at a moment’s notice.

            “Yeesh, relax,” Stan says and tosses a box of condoms onto the bed, “Picked those up at the store. Don’t say I never did anything for ya.” He wrinkles his nose, “Although by the looks of it, I’m a little late.”

            “GET OUT,” Dipper chunks the pillow at his uncle but he’s too fast. It hits the closed door with a thud and falls to the floor. Stan can be heard cackling down the hallway.

            Wirt pulls a blanket over his red face and groans up at the ceiling. “What is wrong with that guy?”

            Dipper drags his hands down his face and flops back down on the bed. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

                   He reaches out, fumbling under the blankets until he can lace his fingers with Wirt’s. With his other hand he zips up his pants. Another rapid knock at the door.

            “Ugh, go away,” Dipper groans.

            “…Are you mad at me?” comes the small voice from the other side of the door.

            Dipper sits up in alarm, “Oh, no, Greg! Oh, man I’m sorry.” He vaults off the side of the bed and rushes to the door.

            Greg is standing there with his hands on his hips, bottom lip poked out in a pout. Dipper gets him to laugh soon enough by scooping him into his arms and doing a spin. The boy takes Dipper’s hat off and plops it on his own head, giggling when it sinks down to cover his eyes.

            “Mabel said to come get you to be the judge of our dance contest,” Greg chirps, pushing the brim of the hat back so he can see Dipper, “If you’re done doing boyfriend stuff, that is.”

            Dipper flushes immediately, setting the kid back down. He hears Wirt make a sort of choking sound from the bed.

            “Sure. Sure, Greg,” Dipper says, offering his hand. Greg takes it gladly, swinging their joined hands together.

            Wirt takes Dipper’s other hand and lets the youngest lead the way down the stairs to Mabel’s room. The repetitive, catchy sound of Sev’ral Timez greets them before they even step inside, the music issuing from Mabel’s pink and sticker covered CD player. Greg eagerly gives Dipper back his hat and rushes to where Mabel is waiting for him at the center of the room.

            “Places, Greg!” she announces and Wirt is surprised to see his little brother obey her immediately.

            Dipper sinks down into a big purple bean-bag chair and tugs Wirt down along with him. He lands half in Dipper’s lap but the other boy doesn’t seem to mind, quite the contrary. He nuzzles into Wirt’s neck, arms winding around him.

            “After we’re done judging the competition, I thought we might go up on the roof and stargaze,” Dipper suggests, just loud enough for his boyfriend to hear.

            “Aw, but I’ve got my favorite star right here,” Wirt says, pushing Dipper’s bangs aside to playfully kiss the constellation on his forehead.

            Dipper chuckles and bats him away. “Well, I’m sure there’s other things we can do to pass the time.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

            Wirt laughs outright. “You’re on,” he says, and they settle in to watch the show.


End file.
